


Tragic

by SecondRateFiction (JustPastTheSecondStar)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Date Night, F/M, boring gala is boring, how to save your night out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustPastTheSecondStar/pseuds/SecondRateFiction
Summary: Batman takes a night off... this is not how you thought it'd go...





	Tragic

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked : "Hi can I request a Bruce Wayne imagine using the line "Well, thats tragic." prefferably with the reader saying it?"

Batman did not take nights off. They were far and very few between.

And, quite frankly, sitting here listening to the very dull guest speaker drone on about why every donation to tonight’s charity mattered was not the way Bruce would have prefer to be spending his evening.

Especially not with you sitting beside him, boredly playing with his hand, and looking positively sinful.

It seemed like as soon as one speech ended another speaker was ushered up to the podium and Bruce could recognize the beginning signs of a headache starting to manifest behind his eyes. He sighed, readjusting himself in his seat.

You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder, “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” He assured you, lacing his fingers through yours and bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“You know,” You hummed quietly, placing your free hand on his knee to be able to lean closer to his ear, “I don’t even think Riddler likes listening to himself talk as much as these people.”

Bruce had to bite down on his lip to stop the low chuckle

“I’m serious,” You continued, smirking as you settled fully back in your seat, “At least he’s interesting to listen to when he monologues.”

“You’re horrible.” He smirked, glancing sideways at you.

“You invited me.”

Bruce started to laugh but tensed as your hand moved from his knee, slowly making its way up the inside of his thigh.

“Y/N.” It was a low toned warning that did nothing but make you smile wider.

“Bruce?” The tone was light, almost innocent, and it caused an otherwise withering glare to be sent your way.

There was a quiet stand off for a moment before you ultimately relented, “Ok, fine.”

Bruce wasn’t sure if that was actually a win.

Reaching for your wine, he barely had time to catch your smirk before you seemed to just miss your mouth, spilling some of  the dark red liquid down your front.

You would be wearing white.

“Oh no.” You gasped lightly locking eyes with him as the stain spread, “Well, that’s tragic.”

Bruce had to fight down the urge to smile as he stood, offering you his hand, “Here, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Dry cleaning was a small price to pay for salvaging the evening.


End file.
